


Jingle Balls

by seriousshit88



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 17:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5506193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seriousshit88/pseuds/seriousshit88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia throws a Christmas party. For Scott and Stiles, it goes about as well as can be expected. Which is to say, they both accidentally end up in their underwear. Also, Kira learns the true meaning of Christmas. Haha, not really, but Malia's just gonna have fun with this until someone stops her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Scott tugged his Santa hat over his ears and rang the doorbell to Lydia’s lake house. He looked behind him and saw just how many cars were parked all over the front drive and part of the yard. He had just made note of the blue jeep when the front door swung open and a wave of warmth/nutmeg/people/happy hit Scott’s senses. He smiled and held up the bag he was carrying.

“Canned goods and other non-perishables. I think this covers my entrance fee,” he beamed.

Lydia smiled and pulled Scott into the house. “Put them over there with the rest,” she said, gesturing to a corner full of food. “I didn’t think anyone would actually go for it, but asking for food donations was good idea.”

“Yeah, it was. We can sort it all tomorrow, then haul it to the food bank. But…” Scott pointed to a group of stacked cereal boxes surrounded by a haphazard pile of assorted junk food items. “Lemme guess: Stiles.”

Lydia nodded and tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice. “He came in here with 22 boxes of cereal and his dad’s junk food stash. Said his dad might disown him for giving away his Reese’s cups, but at least it’s for a good cause. He’s in the kitchen, by the way. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I saw some freshmen trying to sneak in through the back.” She squeezed Scott’s shoulder and slipped effortlessly into the throng of people.

Scott took a deep breath and headed for the kitchen.

***

“Malia, you have to put the bourbon _into_ the eggnog. You can’t just drink it straight from the bottle,” Stiles said patiently.

“Why not?”

“Because the whole point of spiked eggnog is to still have the eggnog.”

Malia scrunched her nose. “Eggnog is gross, though. I’d rather just have the bourbon.”

“This is a time-honored tradition, Malia. You HAVE to spike the eggnog, otherwise, it’s not Christmas.”

“Okay. So what if I do a shot of bourbon and then follow it with an eggnog chaser?”

Stiles squinted at Malia. “Are you…are you messing with me right now?”

Malia smiled impishly and poured the entire bottle of bourbon into the eggnog bowl. “You’re so easy, Stiles.” She patted his cheek affectionately and put the empty bottle on the table. “I’m gonna go find Kira. You might want to get this back out there before Lydia notices.” She jingled her jingle bell necklace at him before striding off.

“It’s progress,” Stiles muttered to himself as he watched Malia leave the kitchen. He sighed, picked up the bowl of eggnog, and carefully made his way around the counter. Just as he was crossing the threshold, something warm and solid barrelled into him. He barely had time to register that the “something” was in fact another person before eggnog sloshed all over the both of them. The other person apparently slipped in the spilled eggnog and fell forward, sending Stiles flailing backwards into the kitchen. The bowl and the rest of its contents went flying.

And there they both were, lying in a soggy mess of clothes and spiked eggnog on the kitchen floor. The music in the main room was so loud that no one even noticed the commotion in the kitchen.

“Hi, Scott,” Stiles wheezed. He was pinned down with Scott sprawled over him.

“Hi, Stiles,” Scott said sheepishly about an inch away from Stiles’s face. “Sorry, I didn’t see you. Are you okay? I hit you pretty hard.” He had eggnog in his hair, his Santa hat was askew, and his obnoxious Christmas sweater was thoroughly soaked. He seemed extremely concerned for Stiles’s well being and safety, and Stiles had never seen a cuter picture. He wanted to get mad, or at least play up the minor discomfort he was now in, but he couldn’t do it. Not with Scott looking utterly adorable on top of him.

“Dude, I’ve taken harder hits at lacrosse practice. I’m fine. But you, you’re kinda heavy, so um…” he raised his hips a little, hoping Scott would get the message. They were pretty much crotch-to-crotch on the kitchen floor and parts of Stiles were gearing up for action, parts he hadn’t really intended to use that night, but he wasn’t opposed to the idea. Parts he knew were starting to press into Scott’s thigh. He grinned devilishly.

Scott flicked him playfully on the nose. “Not on the kitchen floor while we’re both soaked in eggnog and there’s like 50 people in the next room, you horny buttface,” he chuckled. “Here, let me.” Scott sprang up and yanked Stiles up with him.

“Thanks. Gotta love that werewolf strength,” Stiles muttered once he was steady on his feet. He looked down at himself and groaned. “Oh, man. I just bought these cords. The lady at the store said they made my ass look amazing.”

“Your ass already looked amazing,” Scott said earnestly. He hooked his fingers into two of Stiles’s belt loops and yanked him forward. Stiles seriously thought Scott was going in for a kiss, so he closed his eyes and puckered up, waiting patiently for a pair of hot lips to meet his own.

After a few seconds of nothing, Stiles cracked open an eye. “Dude, what are you waiting for?”

“I was going to do it, then I realized we’re a mess. And we have to clean this up.”

“Wait, why do _I_ have to clean anything? You ran into me! Shouldn’t you be the one doing all the cleaning?”

Scott wiped some of the eggnog off Stiles’s nose. He popped his finger in his mouth and Stiles didn’t even bother trying to tamp down on whatever jolt that was running along his spine at the sight.

“Dude, there are freshman here,” Scott said after tasting the eggnog. “I’m telling Lydia you’re trying to get freshmen wasted.”

“I didn’t spike it, Malia did. I just supervised,” Stiles huffed indignantly. Scott turned to leave, but Stiles grabbed his wrist before he could actually get anywhere. “Okay, okay. Don’t rat me out. I’ll help you clean up. Were’s a mop? We need a mop. And paper towels.”

Stiles faced many fearsome creatures in his day, but he wasn’t sure he could survive a pissed-off Lydia.

***

Thankfully, it didn’t take long at all to clean up the mess. They even refilled the bowl with fresh, unspiked (“Scott, when did you stop being fun at parties?”) eggnog. Lydia, without knowing or caring to know the full details of the incident, agreed to let them wash their clothes in the laundry room. But she had nothing for them to change into while they waited, so they were pretty much stuck in the tiny laundry room, in their underwear, until their clothes were done drying. Stiles had gotten off relatively easy; his undershirt, boxers, and socks were completely unscathed. Scott, however, was forced to strip down to only his boxer briefs. And even though the laundry room was connected to the central heating, not to mention the heat the dryer was throwing off, he still couldn’t stop himself from shivering.

“Are you cold?” Stiles asked from his perch on top of the dryer. “Hey, come over here. This thing is keeping my butt super toasty.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m fine,” Scott lied.

Stiles stared at him. “Scott, seriously. I know you wolves tend to run a little warm, but I can actually see you shivering. Come here.”

He ducked his head and approached the dryer. Before he could hop up to join him, Stiles stopped him. He turned to the shelf behind him and retrieved Scott’s Santa hat. “Put this on; it’ll keep your head warm.”

Scott looked suspiciously from Stiles to the hat and back again. Stiles rolled his eyes and placed it on his head for him. Scott felt ridiculous just standing there in his underwear and a Santa hat. “Stiles-” he started, but he was cut off when Stiles suddenly grabbed his face, leaned down and kissed the protest right out of his mouth. Stiles coaxed him open even more, and Scott braced himself against the dryer and let Stiles do obscene things to his mouth with his lips and tongue. He was bracketed on both sides by Stiles’s knees, and he felt himself getting lost in Stiles’s warmth and heartbeat and scent. After an eternity, Stiles finally pulled back. Scott was practically on tippy-toes trying to chase the heat of Stiles’s lips. He was still holding him gently, and Scott resisted the urge to haul him back in for round two.

“Warmer?” Stiles asked with a self-satisfied smirk on his shiny, kiss-swollen lips.

Scott hummed affirmatively and bumped his nose along Stiles’s jaw. “You smell like eggnog. Smells good.” He swiped his tongue over a spot on Stiles’s neck and began softly suckling at it. Stiles whined a little and dropped his hands to Scott’s shoulders, keeping a tight grip lest he melt into a puddle and slide off the dryer. That was the effect Scott was going for, anyway. The mix of eggnog, bourbon, and the salt of Stiles’s skin was a deliciously heady blend, and if he could, Scott would have found a way to bottle it. Or turn it into brownies. He growled a little and nipped at the hickey blooming on Stiles’s neck.

“Hey, hey, easy there,” Stiles said, rubbing soothing circles across Scott’s back. “If you want, we can take the party somewhere else when our clothes are done. My dad’s working late tonight.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Scott said.

“Great. Now ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

“Ask to take me back home and ravish me.”

“Um…can I take you back to your place and ravish you?”

Stiles sighed in mock annoyance. “Do it more festively than that, Scott. You’re wearing a Santa hat, for God’s sake.”

“Okay.” Scott thought a moment, then purred, “Rudolph, with your nose so bright, won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?”

“God, that’s cornier than your sweater,” a third voice piped up.

Scott and Stiles both turned to see Lydia standing in the doorway to the laundry room.

“Lydia!” they shrieked. Scott kicked himself for not even noticing the door opening.

“I came to check on you two, but it seems like you’re taking care of each other just fine,” she said flatly. “By the way, Scott, that’s a nice look for you.” She winked and shut the door.

“Rudolph? Really?” Stiles asked sarcastically, as if Lydia hadn’t just caught them cozied up to each other in their underwear or heard Scott propositioning him with the lyrics of a kid’s Christmas song.

“Would you prefer chestnuts roasting over an open fire?” Scott asked innocently.

“No, I was thinking more along the lines of jingle balls. Dude, you wanna jingle my balls?”

Scott laughed and swatted at Stiles to move his legs out of the way so he could check the dryer. Luckily for them, their clothes were completely dry. But his sweater…

“I guess you shouldn’t have put it in the dryer,” Stiles said sympathetically once they were dressed. “Unless you’re trying to make doll clothes. Thank goodness you wore an actual shirt underneath it.”

“My abuela bought me that sweater.” Scott’s voice warbled a little, and he sniffled.

“Scott, dude, I love you, but that sweater was hideous. This is all for the best, trust me.”

Scott looked up from the miniature sweater in his hands. “I really like when you say that.”

“Say what?”

“That you love me.” Scott kissed Stiles on the tip of his nose.

“You’re a minefield of sappy sweetness during the holidays, I swear.” Stiles said indulgently.

With absolutely no warning, Scott shoved past him and made a break for the door. “Last one to your house gets left out of all the reindeer games!” he called over his shoulder. Stiles dashed after him, not even bothering to say goodnight to anybody as he hurried outside to his jeep.


	2. Epilogue

“Wow,” Malia said. “I wonder who put that there.”

Kira looked up and saw Malia dangling a sprig of mistletoe over her head. She immediately started blushing. “Malia…”

“You’re supposed to kiss under it,” Malia explained.

“Yeah, I know the tradition,” Kira said, blushing even harder.

“Good. Because I was told earlier tonight that it’s a bad idea to eat it. So kiss me.”

Kira looked around the room. Everyone was either dancing or engrossed in conversations in various corners and chairs. She bit her lip nervously. PDA was not her thing. But Kira couldn’t deny the fact that she really, really wanted to kiss her. Malia stood there, both graceful and fierce with eyes shining brightly at her. The want was most definitely mutual.

As if sensing Kira’s concession (she probably had, honestly), Malia scooped her up and planted a kiss on Kira that took her breath away. When she pulled back, they were both grinning.

Lydia appeared out of nowhere and sidled up to the both of them. “Merry Christmas, you two,” she said. “Scott and Stiles bailed on me, and I’m going to need help cleaning up after the party. Thanks for volunteering!” She promptly disappeared before either of them could say anything.

Kira blinked. “What just happened?”

“Scott and Stiles just signed up for a week of inconvenient pranks, that’s what happened,” Malia said calmly. “Did you know jockstraps make pretty good slingshots?”

Kira laughed and wrapped her arms around Malia’s neck. “Go easy on them,” she said.

“We’ll see,” Malia said with a predatory smile and closed the small distance between them.

Kira could honestly say she was now a fan of PDA. Especially at Christmas parties.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted at seriousshit88.tumblr.com.


End file.
